


Ghost

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-05-23
Updated: 2011-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of redemption and forgiveness, and a tale in how far some people will fight for the chance to be with someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It just didn't seem fair, she thinks, as the girl tentatively kisses her cheek, shuffling over to leave. That such a sweet beautiful creation should be confined to a life of piety and solitude seemed.. ungodly.

"Lily, must you take service in the Maker's house?" she whispers, clutching at her hand to keep her by her side just for another moment. The girl nods, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"If I don't, then what would I have in my life?" And she feels her stomach lurch. She growls slightly, sitting up.

"Me, of course! We could run away together, just us. Go and live a free life, wherever we wanted!" She stands up, hands on hips. "There's more than the Tower, you know.. out there. I've seen it, just once, but.. it's amazing!" The Chantry girl laughs, and it is not her usual pretty giggle.

"There's no escaping the Tower, especially not for you. Or did you forget that they can hunt you down with your blood?" She waves a hand dismissively. "Not much of a life, 'Rana." The mage flinches at the familiar pet name, turning away, and Lily huffs as she turns her back on the girl. "We're weak," she murmurs angrily. "We're meant to be weak. The Tower's a prison for us."

The little elven girl promises herself, in the dark of night when Lily has finally fled, that she will be strong enough for both of them.


	2. Endings

When Jowan comes to her, begging for her help, she is strong.

When Lily stands next to him, fingers interlocked with his, she does not even react, just smiles brightly and nods her promises. She does not see that glint in her eyes, does not see what once belonged to her – that small smile that held so much affection. She sees a boy and a girl, scared witless, and she knows they need her strength much more than they need each other. It is not love, she can see that plain as day – but it is something, which is more than she has.   
Her loyalty to the Circle is weak. Her loyalty to Lily is forever, even if the girl claims she no longer cares for her. That is fine, she thinks, as they hurry through the circling corridors, because she knows a love like Lily's love is meant to be earned through deed and action, not just words alone. She is a mage now, and that gives her power, surely. Otherwise what would be the point?

They find themselves at an impasse when Owain solemnly explains that they require the permission of a senior mage, and she thinks hard as Jowan frets. She never takes her eyes off Lily. The girl has an odd look in her eyes, one that the initiates would recognise in any of the newcomers to the Tower – she looks hunted, something that Jowan, in his own fear, was obviously blind to. She wonders what Lily has to be afraid of.

The matter is soon in hand – a quick favour to Senior Enchanter Leorah and the form is waved away without question. Leorah had been kind to her in her initiate years, their shared fate in the world a select bond between all the elven mages. Weapon in hand, she leads the pair down to the basement, carefully ignoring the fact that their fingers were once again entwined.

When trouble finds them, Lily brandishes two kitchen knives with alarming skill, and she thinks that Jowan is a little more surprised than her.

"You.. you've got weapons!" he stutters, and she resists the urge to smack him for stating the obvious. Lily shrugs lightly.

"It's not going to be safe out there, don't look so surprised." Did he think that he would be able to protect her always, she wonders, and does he honestly think he'll last two seconds out there? She knows him, has known him for years. Close friends, but not brethren – no-one in this Tower truly trusts, the templars drive it out of you. But she knows him as well as anyone else could, she thinks, and she has seen the truth of him. He is not a fighter. He cannot protect Lily, much as he would try. If their plan worked, he would die in the cold – of that she has little doubt.

"Hey, 'Rana.. you know when we make it out of here in one piece, do you want to come with us?" Jowan asks suddenly, and Lily turns to stare at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. She blinks, glancing between Jowan and Lily for a moment.

"She can't." Lily's voice cuts through her thoughts. "Her phylactery is in Denerim, they could use that to find us. Think about it for a moment," she mutters, turning her back on the man. Jowan gapes. She is not surprised.

She is surprised, however, when they are caught.

~*~

Jowan is a fool. He screams for her, yet bleeds for himself. He does not try and save them. She, on the other hand, is ready. She will go to Aeonar with Lily, and she will suffer with her, scream with her, lose herself until the spirits come and then she will conquer them and escape with her.

And then the Grey Warden denies her.

At the mention of conscription, she rallies against him, squaring up to the taller man with angry words and righteous fury. Irving looks on her with pity, and Greagoir looks almost bemused as he waves a hand, the templars taking the Chantry girl away. She does not look up at the mage.

A heart breaks.

She submits to Duncan's will quietly, and within five days she is at Ostagar.

~*~

Alistair is intriguing, she decides very quickly. He admits to having been a templar once, which unnerves her, but when he nervously apologises and grins, she cannot help but be put at ease again. She turns her back on him anyway. She moves through the camp with her fists clenched, still expecting walls to come up from the ground and trap her.

Senior Enchanter Wynne is here, which is irritating. She is a reminder of everything that she has just been dragged from, a faint reminder of Lily. She is curt. Wynne says nothing of importance. She moves on.

Humans outside the Tower are strange, she soon decides. The king smiles at her in the same soft way that Alistair does, and she thinks that perhaps the shemlen men all speak softly to every woman they see for fear of spooking them. Fools. Ser Jory is dull, and Ser Daveth laughs when she calls him that, patting her on the head.

"Just Daveth. I'm no ser, trust me."

He winks. She is amused by him; Jory is not. They both paint a different picture of the world, and she wonders if they live in the same one. And then there are darkspawn and she is fighting, really fighting for the first time in her life and when they kill the first band she throws up, and Alistair rubs her back.

Duncan looks at her with new eyes when they return, approving eyes. Alistair seems proud, like it was his doing. _Templar._ But there is no time to think upon this as they step forward for the Joining, and she watches a good man die and a scared man fall and everything becomes fuzzy as she is imprisoned into a new life.

It hurts. Oh, it hurts so much, and she half-wonders if this is the point of it all, for this to be her death. But she is strong, and she lives, waking to find Duncan and Alistair hovering over her as if she were the most precious thing in the whole of creation. It unnerves her.

She means to escape after the battle. She repeats this mantra as her and Alistair make their way up to the beacon, blood spilling at their feet every step of the way. With her new freedom, she means to break free and head north, to Aeonar. Surely it cannot be that hard to find, she reasons – she knows it is a weak point of the Fade, as a mage she has the advantage. She could feel her way there, grasp blindly in the dark til she finds where they have hidden Lily and then rescue her..

And then the world crumbles beneath them – an arrow, two, three in her chest – and she falls into the dark.


	3. Companions

The Witch amazes her. She is a mage for whom the Circle has never been a reality, and she quickly finds that the easiest way to make her smirk – never smile, never gentle, all hard lines and cynicism – is to make fun of Alistair. She feels a little bad after the first day. He clams up completely, and nothing will provoke a response out of him – a mindless Templar, drawls Morrigan as she sets up her own camp.  


She makes a fire, and Alistair sits by it for the entire night, cold eyes staring into the flames. She wonders if he sees Ostagar.  


“Sorry.”  


He blinks, turning to face her. She sits awkwardly next to him. “I shouldn't have said those things. You're hurting.” Reaching out, she pats his shoulder. He stares at her with a strange look in his eyes before nodding slightly.  


“I get it, you know. You want to impress her because she's like you, but different. Just... be careful. I don't trust her.”  


“I got that impression,” she says, before letting out a soft sigh. “How are you? This must all be a big shock for you.”  


“You don't have to pity me, you know. I know you... you didn't much care for what Duncan did for you.” He smiles slightly, though it is humorless. “You don't have to pretend for my sake.”  


“That doesn't mean I don't want to know how you are. He was important to you.”  


He regards her for a moment before his shoulders slump. “Yes, he was. And now he's...”  


Morrigan's voice cuts across the conversation like the crack of a whip. She looks up at the sound.  


“Come. I have a tale or two for you, should you have a care.” And she beckons with those slender fingers before heading back to her camp, back straight and hips swaying. She turns to Alistair, not terribly surprised to find him staring into the flames once more, shoulders stiff.  


“Go.” His voice is gruff and hurt, and she hesitates for a moment, before squeezing his shoulder and heading over to Morrigan.  


~*~  


She comes back when Morrigan tires of her, and he is still sitting by the fire. He makes no move to acknowledge her as she sits next to him. Taking a deep breath, she starts.  


“You have no idea what it's like for people like us. To be scorned your whole life for being different.. I was born with that life because I'm not human. But on top of that I'm a mage. I'm probably the most hated... thing most shems see. But you... you're human, you were a templar... and now you're a Grey Warden.” She snorts slightly. “Hero material much?”  


He says nothing for a long moment. “I know what it's like for people to stare at you as if you were waste.” The admission is rough, quiet. “I was nobody, less than nobody, when I was training to be a templar. But then Duncan found me, took me away... and it didn't matter to the others who I had been before. Like it doesn't matter to me that you're a mage, or an elf. I don't see you as either of those things. I see you as a Grey Warden. The only one left apart from me. Don't forget that.” He stands up, dusting off his knees, before hesitating.  


“What?”  


“Just something I remembered. You'll... you'll have nightmares. Maybe. Well, they're more like visions. But they're pretty scary when you first get them. If...” He turns to face her, and he looks older somehow in the firelight. “If you want to talk about them to someone who understands, just wake me up. I won't be angry. Sometimes it's good to talk about things.” With that said, he heads off to his bedroll, leaving her wondering what about him could possibly be so scandalous to other shems.  


~*~  


Lothering is a mess. The people are already terrified, and at the sight of her in Circle robes they shy even further away. She sends Alistair to do the talking. Morrigan suggests showing them exactly what they should be afraid of.  


Instead she drags the Witch to the inn, determined to try and find out some news about the Tower. Morrigan sniffs in disdain, but is ignored as they enter the tavern.  


The Chantry girl has a dangerous look in her eyes when she fights. She introduces herself as Leliana, and Alistair finds them with a new companion when he returns with provisions. He asks few questions, a blessing for which she is thankful. Leliana, however, does not shut up between the tavern and the cage.  


The Qunari appeals to her simply because he does not waste words. She sends Alistair and Leliana to convince the Revered Mother, whilst her and Morrigan deal with the 'insolent fools' just beyond the town boundaries. Sten does not comment on their fight. Alistair brings back a sword for him, and armour they had traded.  


They head to make camp, and Morrigan bids her walk beside her for a while.  


“What do you make of the large one?”  


“I don't know how loyal he'll be if it comes down to it. I think he resents me simply for being a girl... like I needed more prejudice in my life...”  


The Witch laughs. “Indeed. And the Chantry whelp?”  


“She talks too much, but she’s good in a pinch, and she could probably negotiate for us.” She stretches her arms above her head. “What do you think of her?”  


“I have no time for brainwashed fools,” she sniffs, her eyes narrowing as she regards Leliana. “She is worse than the zealot – and she does not know when to hold her tongue.”  


“True enough. Still, maybe she can keep Alistair company.” The thought pleases her. She could be the help he needs, and it would keep both out of Morrigan's path. And the Qunari... well, he seemed to be easy enough to deal with. The Witch, for her part, simply sniffs disdainful agreement once more as they follow the other Warden and head to make camp once more.


End file.
